When I was a young girl.

I had a nice dinner with Lauren tonight; I really like her. When I first came to college, she was the one who I really wanted to be good friends with on the quiz bowl team, and I kind of have a girlcrush on her. She also made me a lovely mix CD which I am listening to right now; what could be better than Arcade Fire, Ben Folds, Feist, the Black Keys, and Josh Ritter?

It's funny because she's going through roommate problems at the moment as well. Talking to her helped me realise something: although everything she said yesterday made me feel kind of like shit, at the same time, I've come up with something positive out of it. Namely, I'm not going to let her control my life. I realise now that I just can't let her do that.

Sprouting a backbone, or maybe just gaining more confidence? Either way, I know that I haven't done anything wrong.

Lantern.

WARNING: TOXIC ENTRY. Lots of ranting.

This was actually an excellent weekend for me; I got to hang out with so many people, we had a good quiz bowl tournament, and I felt really good about myself for the first time in ages. The roomie came back from her sojourn home to go to her grandfather's funeral, and made herself a Hot Pocket about half an hour after settling back down. She looked in the fridge to put some food there and realised that I'd got a little take-away box.

Her: Oh, did you go out to eat?

Me: Yeah.

Her: Where did you go?

Me: Shah's.

Her: Oh, that's cool. Who with?

Me: Seth. [It took me a moment to remember because I'd been with Colton as well a day or two before.]

Her: Oh... that's cool. [Pause.] I'm happy that you got to hang out with him. [Pause.] Was I mentioned in conversation?

Me: Um... I don't think so.

Her: Oh, okay. I'm sorry, that was a stupid question for me to ask.

Me: I mean, we talked about Doctor Who and stuff--

Her: No, no, never mind. Forget what I said.

[Thirty minutes later, while I am reading some homework. I have forgotten the incidents of earlier.]

She came back into the room and sat herself on my bed, saying, "I need to talk to you, because I'm trying not to bottle in my feelings." Then she said that she was angry at me "over the Seth thing." Here are some of the points she made, because I am far too lazy to put this into script formation or anything else:

- She "doesn't want me to stop hanging out with him," and that is not why she was angry; apparently I have every right to hang out with him. What she was angry about was the fact that she'd had to "prod" me for information about it, and that I hadn't told her immediately.

- ... and as for her definition of "immediately," she said, "You could have sent me an email, saying, 'I hung out with so-and-so,' and then I wouldn't be angry."

- She emphasised how she has "been a better friend to me" than I had to her because she had given up her claim on him last year (yes, she brought that up again), and that she was going to "stop giving up her happiness" for me, for Seth, for anyone else; in her words, "I give 100% to everybody I care about [i.e. me]. I don't expect that back. I expect maybe 10-20%. I don't think that's much to ask for. But in this case, it's like you gave me a negative percent, because you took some more from me." It is not my fault that she decided to defriend him on Facebook! I didn't know that she wanted me to talk to him about their friendship! By defriending him, she had said that she was "done" with him, and she had emphasised this all week long.

- She also emphasised the fact that I'd done this while she was away at her grandfather's funeral and shortly after she had defriended him; she used the term "betrayal" to describe my actions.

- She also said that she was angry with him "coming in and out of my life, acting as if nothing was happening," and implied that I should be angry with him too.

- When I asked her if she had wanted me to talk to him for her (tonight), she said, "No, but that's me telling you yes, that I do want you to talk to him. The problem is that you had to even ask. I didn't even ask you about talking to him about you; I just told him, 'stop being stupid with Alex.' So the fact that you wouldn't do the same for me hurts."

- Also, I pointed out that everything had happened fairly spur-of-the-moment; she responded that while that was all fine and dandy, because "these things happen," she said that I hadn't properly taken into consideration how much my actions would make her hurt, and how when she started liking him again she'd come to me to run it by me, and yet I hadn't said anything about this to her, and I'd been acting like I was hiding something.

- She used the word "angry," and not "annoyed," even though this had all happened within the course of an hour or so (and so I'm not sure why she was so angry).

In short, she basically flipped out over absolutely nothing, and made it sort of clear that although she's "okay" with me hanging out with him, she's really not, and that I need to consult her on various facets of my life. There was a lot more (I really do mean this), but I've forgotten a large chunk of it; I told Ben a good deal of what she'd said and he basically said, "fuck her for saying that, she's not really your friend if she says stuff like that."

I am sick of putting up with her shit such as this. She cannot control him, nor is he hers to give away. I didn't think it was a big deal to hang out with him, even though she (evidently) does. And she kind of ruined what was once a good evening for me. I'd been quite content before, but now I'm actually sort of furious. She might not be able to believe what I've done to her (how are my actions considered "betrayal" when there wasn't anything actively defined between them in the first place?), but she told me all of last year to just give up on him. I wouldn't say that she's doing the same thing I did; in a sense, she is doing more, because she's berating me for not telling her all my actions.

I simply do not know what to say in response. I took it all sitting down (quite seriously) and bowed my head, feeling remarkably disgusted with myself for not considering her feelings, but now I'm really quite angry with her response. Not that she'll listen or anything.

Three more months. If she does this again, I'm going to shoot something. She does not have control over my fucking life. I thought for a while this month that she might actually be my friend, but this simply proves that she sees me as a tool which she wants to manipulate for her own use.

And all I have to say right now is:

Fuck you, Amanda. I am not you, and I am not going to kowtow to you. I'm going to do what I want to do, whether you like it or not. If you truly gave me 100%, then I might reconsider, but this--but this--? No. You don't actually give me 100%. You view me as something to rant at. I'm not your friend. You're not my friend, either, no matter what you claim.

I'm going to go read something now and attempt to be productive in my quiet fury.

The suburbs (continued).

I hate it when I am hanging out with my friends and they suddenly see someone else and what was just a conversation betwixt us becomes an aesthetic debate that I cannot participate in between these two people because I really know nothing about the subject and everything I say makes me look stupid because I don't know what I'm talking about only to remain silent and then I look even weirder because I'm not saying anything, I'm just standing there in the cold awkwardly thinking about how useless both their arguments are in the long run, how Ian is acting like such an absolute hipster naming bands that he thinks are great that no-one has even ever heard of but he's acting like he's so superior because he knows these groups and Ben, Ben who I agree with, says all this stuff and he sounds amazing and I can't even compare and they both got the same scholarship that I'll never get because I'm not smart and I never will be on the same intellectual playing field as both of these two.

Second time it's happened in two days. Thanks, guys.

Ocean of noise.

I had a dream about you for the first time in ages last night. You were the one who described me as a cross between Amy Adams and Ben Stiller, which still makes no sense, but you also praised me. You said things I didn't expect to hear. You told me that I am a wonderful person and that I am going to go on to do great things. I could feel you letting me go--but I was okay with that.

And then, ironically enough, I saw you today for the first time in ages. I wanted to tell you, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence and something stupid that only I would notice. Still, the dream was comforting, and I've been holding onto it all day. Even though it was only a dream, not reality, I felt like you meant everything you said.

So thank you, dream-you as well as real-you.

I can talk.

I have shown my poem to one, two, three people. I think four or five people have read it by now (the fifth making it quite unclear whether or not he actually read it).

And they say it's good. (And Peter helped me tweak the line breaks--and I'm still working on it a little bit, but I haven't been this excited about something I've written in a while.)

Well, I know what I'm submitting to Lit Mag this term. I don't actually care if it gets in or not; I'm just excited to be submitting it, submitting something that I actually really like. Perhaps I'll submit a few more things, like the poems I did in my creative writing class last term, but... I'm quite pleased with my writing for the first time in a while.

Rumours.

I suppose more accurately, today's title should be "Rumors," because I'm listening to Josh Ritter and that's how he spells it. Oh well.

Pro: I wrote a poem. I wrote a poem. I wrote a poem! ... It's the first thing I've written in a really long time that I'm happy with, and I'm surprised it's a poem. I have a story sitting in my mind that I've been aching to properly write since August, based on a fairly surrealist incident my aunt told me, but--I haven't been able to do so properly. Hopefully I'll be able to birth it within the next week or so. I really want to.

All day yesterday, I went around almost singing to myself, "I wrote a poem, I wrote a poem, I wrote a poem." Such a silly little thing to be proud of, but I am. I'm still tinkering with it a bit, but it was a decent first draft.

Con: I hate how awful the night makes me feel. Two nights in a row of monsters coming to attack me in my sleep, of bad thoughts no matter where I turn, of tears falling into my ears. (Have you ever cried so that tears fall into your ears? I don't advise it; it's cold and wet and feels generally unpleasant.) I missed my cat last night. I missed a lot of people last night.

---

"It makes things a lot easier for them both if he supports him, you know? Cause, after all, they live together. And there's a choice... you always have a choice..." - Roommate on a love triangle she knows of, where a couple broke up and now the girl is going out with her ex's roommate.

My interpretation: supposed to refer to us, and how I should be supporting her in her endeavours with...

I don't even know what to feel anymore. I just don't.

Spiralling.

Last night, I gave birth to a poem. It's still sort of working itself out, doesn't quite have a title yet (tentatively titled "Reading" or maybe "The Reader"), but... who knows. Here it is, in all its unworked glory.

The ink left on my skin

burned as I tried to scrub it off

with honeyed hand soap,

leaving the blue ghost of a tattoo

where I wrote a word, once strong

yet fading as the sun sets and my pen dries.

I examined it under fluorescent lights,

wondering if anyone might try

to fit the misty shapes to letters,

racking their brains after a casual glance. Would they know?

I suppose I didn't have to worry, for people

scurrying by on a cold evening, escaping snow,

are not apt to notice

spindly scratches, poorly written, fresh upon flesh.

Then a palm-reader, shrouded in mist,

stopped me under a lamppost, reading my eyes

as they shouted things my voice quaked to speak.

"Let me see," he demanded. "I know the marks upon you."

He examined the word, ice eyes piercing my uncovered arm,

scrutinising the details, putting together a story from God knows what:

the moon's influence, my chipped nail polish,

bitten cuticles, the way the shiny snowflakes hit me.

"My dear," he pronounced, voice thick with certainty,

"you should not fear. It is all here.

Reach out and grasp it--do not be afraid.

A great future lies before you."

As he motioned with spider-leg fingers,

a ribbon burst from them, broad and pink,

enveloping me in warmth and comfort

as it snaked around my ankles,

my knees, my lungs, my heart.

"Keep it with you," he said, and then he dissolved

into the bitter air, a night sprite.

I grasped with hands that were once blue

but could not catch; I called in vain and found

no answer, just the dying trees repeating my cry.

Instead, I was left with a hope

that maybe the word was not so silly

after all.

(I also don't know whether the palm-reader is a he or a she.)

Such great heights.

Pro: I finally found Cute Guy from Chaucer on Facebook and got to read some of his poetry.

Con: The ring on his finger did, indeed, mean he is married. Specifically, he got married in October. Not that I had any sort of chance, but still. I LIKED IT BUT IT ALREADY HAD A RING ON IT. WHAT DO YOU MAKE OF THAT, BEYONCE?! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THIS INSTANCE?

Vague pro: he used the name "Alex" in one of his poems, albeit referring to a man, but still, it marks the first time I've ever seen my name used in a poem. Har har har.

Vague con: I suppose this means I will never end up with anyone called Josh. This may not be a bad thing, though. Most Joshes are jerks. Save Josh Ritter, who's doing a concert here in March...!!!!!

Big chair.

Listening to this song brings back memories of cold, dark days. I think of England, surreal minutes ticking by. I couldn't believe any of them. Still can't. I'm not sure they really happened, although it was nearly six months ago. This song makes me think of the first trip to Pikeville, and how much I wish Thomas hadn't had to leave the team, and how I should never ever ever get drunk, and how bad things got in my head. All the bad thoughts that clouded me so I walked around, head in a fog, unable to concentrate on Samuel Pepys or Othello because I was so . . . not myself.

I can only hope that I will be able to make a difference with my mental state this term (and year). It was bad. It can get better. I will fight this and I will win. I've just got to grasp onto the happiest chords I can find and hang on for dear life.

One find.

Positive thoughts about the past few days:

- things touched at work yesterday: a leaf of the Gutenberg Bible; the original charter for Louisville, signed by Thomas Jefferson; Newton's own copy of Principia Mathematica. ALL IN THE SPAN OF AN HOUR.

- might be writing a paper about Arcade Fire/suburban discontent/the idea of "suburban war" in itself.

- people trust me (why, why?); someone told me his life story, ending it with, "I've never really told anyone all this before." That's what most people say to me. WHY DO THEY TRUST ME?

- Ben says I'm not stupid, which is reassuring (I know a lot of people do, but it's nice to have somebody who I'm fairly sure is James Joyce reincarnated saying that is a bit of a relief).

- the term has begun with a good start.

Bad thoughts:

- OH GOD I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE

- OH GOD EVERYONE HATES ME

- OH GOD PEOPLE ARE JUDGING ME FOR WEARING FIVE LAYERS SO I LOOK FAT IN MY COAT, I SWEAR IT'S NOT INTENTIONAL

- NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE ME THE WAY I WANT TO BE LOVED

- people probably think you're really stupid after all

- my self-confidence keeps going lower and lower every day, even though I've been trying to salvage what little was there; have not been crying (good thought), have not been hating my living situation (another good thought), but I am still concerned that I will fail everything

- my thoughts get bad and repetitive

I'm going to go read a book and get rid of them that way, hopefully. Everything I keep writing is about the binary betwixt light and dark, good and evil, high and low. It's all awful and terrible, nothing's finished, but I'm enjoying it.

You and I both.

It's been one year since one of the happiest moments of my life. I say that without much reservation because it is true: I can't remember a time when I felt a purer, more elemental happiness. Perhaps it was a stupid happiness; I suppose I cannot judge it until I experience a similar state, but I don't know when the next time (if there is a next time) will come around. I normally hate people who wallow, although I am a wallower myself. I don't intend this to be a statement upon my wallowing. It's just funny looking a year on from that night--after all, who can predict all the crazy stuff that happens? I'm a much different person. I don't know if I'll ever be that carefree-ly happy again; I hope that I will, someday, although it seems a distant, impossible goal at times. But I wanted to just sort of--acknowledge this date and thank you for what you gave me, what you taught me, and what I learned from it all. I can't say that I'm stronger or better for what happened, but I'm glad it did.

I hope you are happy, and I hope I can continue to learn from you. I wonder if it even crossed your mind at all. If it didn't--well, that's okay.

"And it's okay if you had to go away. Oh, just remember the telephones, well they work in both ways. But if I never ever hear them ring--if nothing else, I'll think the bells inside have finally found you someone else and that's okay, cause I'll remember everything you sang. . ."

I wanna be the one.

I just had one of my Perpetual Thoughts of Doom and Everlasting Loneliness. This does not bode well with Alex the Optimist. Watch Optimist Alex attempt to talk Negative Alex out of the thought.

OA: What you just thought was completely irrational. You're not going to die alone at all.

NA: YES I AM! NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE ME AND PEOPLE WILL THINK I'M A WHORE!

OA: ... people will what? No they won't. Everybody loves you.

NA: NOT THE PEOPLE I WANT TO LOVE ME!
OA: Don't be so silly. Really. Just because somebody says something to somebody else doesn't mean that you're not important. I'm totally honest here.

NA: I know you're right, but I sort of don't give a damn.

OA: I thought we were going to be more positive and optimistic! One comment--one comment--from someone else and that's going to ruin your evening? You can't let that happen. You've got to fight for your happiness.

NA: I don't want to. I want to live in Funeral, because I've come to a point where I have to listen to the entire album at least once every three days.

OA: You can do this. You can do this. Just--put that person out of your mind. I know you care about them, but their approval is not everything. Keep writing down all the positive thoughts and experiences you have and soon, positive thinking will not be a struggle.

[No response from Negative Alex.]

OA: We can do this, but I'm going to need you to cooperate. Please, don't let me down.

NA: I've already let everybody down by suddenly becoming pessimistic when I already announced I'd be optimistic. What the fuck does that say about me?

OA: It says you are human. Relax and stay calm. Keep calm and carry on, but it's more than that. Don't pay attention to those little things.

NA: But sometimes they are all I hear.

OA: How can you focus on the negative things when there are so many beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous things around you? Remember to keep an open mind. It's one of your biggest gripes that others do not keep open minds, and I'd like for you not to be a hypocrite. Just--forget about what you'll have to live with soon. Please. For me? Remember what it's like to be happy.

NA: Okay, I'll calm down, just this once. Just this once. But if it happens again... I'll beat your face in with a heavy book. Or with a stick. Yeah, I'm good with sticks.

OA: No, you won't. Nothing can get me down.

NA: Not even the thought of--

OA: NA NA NA NA NA NA NA I REFUSE TO LISTEN TO YOU.

I don't know what's weirder,

(a) the fact that a single comment made by somebody to somebody else--completely not involving me at all--was threatening to change my sunny mood,

(b) the fact that I'm so willing to fight for my happiness these days (the fact that I am fighting for it at all), or

(c) the fact that I just wrote a dialogue between Happy Alex and Sad Alex.

Such is the life of Alex the Optimist, I suppose. Sorry to bother you; you might see a few more posts like this in the future. Just keep keeping that diary of positive thoughts, Alex...

That was me!

Just met with Carol again... we've met twice but I love being with her so much. She sees so much potential in me, which is really exciting, and has even suggested that I work on updating a book with her about Louisville then and now through Special Collections... wow.

For the moment, Optimist Alex is back. And right now, I can agree with Mika for once--we are not what youuuu think we are, we are golden, we are golden.

Song for a friend (live from Montalvo).

God, the guitar solo in this version kills me.

Positive thoughts about yesterday:

- lots of tea

- the Sabres won!!!!!!! in a really good game vs. Boston

- I am alive

- I'm not going to listen to the roomie when she sort of demeans me

Positive thoughts about today, so far:

- I am not giving up

- I wrote a poem and began a story that I'm actually interested in continuing . . . the poem sort of sucks, it was all made up at around 1 in the morning, but still

- I'm really enjoying Dracula because it's so frightening!

Hi, 2011. I'm ready to tackle you now.